


give you love

by geralehane



Series: gdau [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, gdau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 11:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13703493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: a (late) valentine's day gift from me to you.gdau verse: ranya are engaged and clexa can't keep their hands off each other.





	give you love

**Author's Note:**

> check out [my tumblr](http://geralehane.tumblr.com) for a link to my other works! 
> 
> and follow me on  
> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/thegeralehane)  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/thegeralehane)
> 
> enjoy your read!

Clarke catches the sliding droplet of sweat with her lips, grinning into wet skin. Salty. Tense and hot, just like around her fingers. She pulls them out, slowly, continuing to rain small, quick kisses down her neck and shoulders. And stops, with her fingers barely inside.

 

The body under her squirms, arching into her, seeking to be filled. “Clarke.” The groan is both desperate and frustrated. “Clarke – please.”

 

She hums into now damp hair, before breathing her in. “Since you’re asking so nicely,” she murmurs, and watches, transfixed, as slender fingers grasp at the sheets when she pushes in, rough and fast, burying herself to the knuckles.

 

Lexa’s quiet gasp is sweeter than any obscene scream she’s ever heard. “God,” she chokes out, fingers practically digging into the mattress as her back arches and quivers under Clarke. “You’re – you’re stretching me so much, God, Clarke…”

 

“Is this okay?” she whispers, soothingly. Her fingers are thick; she knows that, just like she knows that Lexa likes the feeling of being full. But just in case, she asks again.

 

“Yes,” Lexa replies, low and hot, before rocking back, slowly. “I – yes. Please.”

 

She loves how incoherent the usually collected and put-together Lexa gets when she has her like this. Clarke’s body pressing her into the bed, face first, while she fucks her till she sees stars. She loves to imagine Lexa, sharply-dressed, elegant, imposing and intimidating Lexa leading a meeting and ordering grown men around while thinking about _them_. About everything they’ve done the morning before she headed into her office at the top-floor. About her body bent to Clarke’s will, willingly open and exposed to her eyes and hands and tongue; about her body carrying Clarke’s touch and mark.

 

She nuzzles behind her ear, not moving yet, and presses a small, lingering kiss below it. Lexa replies with slowing down and humming, and her hand finds Clarke’s unoccupied one near her head, entwining their fingers.

 

“I love you,” Clarke whispers, and Lexa’s thumb runs across her knuckles, a little awkwardly due to their position, but tenderly nonetheless.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

When their lips meet, Clarke swallows her shuddering sigh as she picks up her pace, abruptly. More and more, until Lexa’s moaning into her mouth almost nonstop, and her walls are pulsing so rhythmically around her Clarke wonders if she’s coming over and over again, with no end in sight. She curls her fingers, slightly, knowing how much Lexa likes having her back wall touched like this, a little forcefully – a discovery that made them both very, very happy one fateful night several years ago.

 

In response, Lexa trembles and spreads her legs even wider. She wishes she could touch her clit, as well, but Lexa’s got her other hand in a death grip, and she doesn’t want to let go of her hand anyway. Besides, this would be over way too soon if she did reach down. A couple of strokes, and Lexa would be gone. And she doesn’t want that just yet.

 

She cherishes each and every time she gets to have her like this – to take care of her the way she takes care of Clarke. She still remembers when she couldn’t do that. When Lexa wouldn’t allow her to touch her the way she longed to. Now, she makes sure that every time she does, it’s something unforgettable.

 

“Clarke,” comes Lexa’s fervent whisper, and she leans down, pressing her forehead to hers as she moves atop of her, helping her hand with forceful thrusts of her hips.

 

“I’m here,” she coos. “I’m here, baby.” Lexa leaves a sloppy, greedy kiss on her lips, and she smiles. She wants to laugh, suddenly. The tenderness of her smile probably doesn’t match the pounding Lexa’s receiving, does it?

 

She hides her grin in Lexa’s shoulder, nibbling at the skin. She’s getting close now. It’s easy to see, in the way her eyes screw shut and her mouth falls open in a silent scream. But most importantly, in the squeezing of her cunt around Clarke. She feels each strong pulse, and that sends a pleasant twinge to her aching clit. She shifts on top of Lexa when the pounding between her own legs grows unbearable. Spreads her legs and straddles her buttock, hissing in relief when her stinging clit comes in contact with firm muscle.

 

“Fuck,” she can’t stop herself from gasping. “Lexa.”

 

Lexa’s hand tightens around hers even more. “You’re so wet,” she moans in awe. “You’re – fuck, Clarke, I can feel you… feel you dripping—” she cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, and tenses up. So does her cunt – right before fluttering on Clarke’s fingers, maddeningly fast and erratic, while Lexa lets out a string of moans, each one louder and louder.

 

Clarke bites into her shoulder, and her fingers don’t slow down inside her as she rubs herself against Lexa’s ass. Once, twice, and she’s gone, too, her cunt clenching around nothing greedily and enviously. She wonders if Lexa can feel her clit pulse against her skin. Yes, probably, with how strongly it does.

 

Everything is bright and vivid for the longest moment as they peak together. Through her high, Clarke barely hears Lexa’s delirious murmurs of love as she kisses her knuckles.

 

That, and incessant ringing that grows louder the more her ecstasy wears off.

  
_Wow,_ she thinks to herself with a small smirk. _My ears are still ringing._ It’s been a while since she came _this_ hard.

 

But Lexa’s suddenly huffing and grumbling and untangling herself from her, despite he immediate pitiful whines of protest, and she realizes it’s not her ears, but Lexa’s phone. She hates that thing. She really does. That thing clit-blocked her more times than she can count. Not to mention it makes Lexa leave their bed (or couch, or counter, or kitchen floor) and leave _her,_ and that’s unacceptable.

 

The phone stops ringing just before Lexa finally finds it in the heap of clothes on the floor, and she watches her shake her head as she looks at the display before placing it on the nightstand with a sigh.

 

“Who was it?” she asks, lazily. The answer is already there, but she just wants to make sure. It could be someone else.

Lexa stands there, in all of her naked glory, as she watches Clarke leisurely stretch with a smirk. They love to put on a show for each other. Another discovery they made a couple of years ago that made their life even better. “Anya,” she confirms Clarke’s thought. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

 

Clarke slyly watches her climb onto the bed and crawl towards her. “Wasn’t it worth it, though?” she asks, rhetorically, as Lexa hovers above her, resting her weight on her hands on each side of Clarke’s head. Her legs spread, of their own accord, and entwine Lexa’s waist as she settles into her, unhurriedly.

 

Lexa answers with a slow, deep kiss. “She’ll kill us if we’re late,” she murmurs when they part – much to Clarke’s dismay, who leans up and chases her lips, tugging her back with her hand on the back of her neck.

 

Another kiss that only ends when they need to come up for air.

 

“She’ll understand,” Clarke pants against her mouth. “I haven’t seen you in a _month_ ,” she says. Whines, really, but she doesn’t care. “Which, by the way, was her fault.”

 

Lexa laughs. “How is a financial fraud in a distant branch office on another continent Anya’s fault?”

 

She shrugs. “It was _financial._ She’s the CFO. You tell me.”

 

Her girlfriend only laughs again, shaking her head as she leans down, her breath warm on Clarke’s lips. “We have to get up soon,” she whispers. “Very soon.”

 

“Yeah.” She nods. Lexa’s clever fingers are dancing across her skin as she leans all of her weight on one elbow, freeing her hand to do whatever she wants. Her breath hitches in her throat when those fingers find her nipple, gently teasing it between them. “Yes… Five more minutes?”

 

“Read my mind,” Lexa growls, huskily, and slithers down her body, leaving quick, determined kisses along the way.

 

//

 

“You’re late,” Anya states as soon as they walk in. She’s wearing a scowl as she stares at them, and it only deepens when they exchange glances and coy, muted smirks.

 

“Aw babe, come on,” Raven takes Anya’s hand in hers and leans into her side. “I seem to recall you being _very_ okay with it about… twenty minutes ago,” she grins, making Clarke groan and roll her eyes. Which, okay, she admits is a little hypocritical of her, but still. She doesn’t want to think of her best friend having sex. Especially when it took place mere feet away from where she’s standing right now.

 

Or closer. Surprisingly, Anya’s not particularly patient when it comes to sex. She’s unfortunate enough to know that after walking in on them several times despite her best efforts.

 

As expected, Raven scoffs at her reaction and immediately proceeds to call her out. “You don’t get to make that face with that _freshly fucked_ look you’re rocking, Griffin,” she says warningly. “It’s been an _hour._ ”

 

Clarke doesn’t even have it in her to feel ashamed. She only shrugs and leans further into Lexa who’s got her hand on her lower back. “What did you expect? You’re the one who decided to meet the day Lexa came back after being away for a _month,_ ” Anya clears her throat and studies the wall when Clarke throws her a dirty look. “Did you _not_ think I’d rather welcome my girlfriend back than discuss seating arrangements?”

 

“Actually, she came back yesterday,” Raven points out. She sighs when Clarke crosses her arms, defiant. “Aw come on. You had…” she trails off, her lips moving silently as she counts something, “twenty one hour to, uh, _celebrate_. That’s exactly why we’re meeting at six pm and not at lunch. See, we’re considerate! And you’re _still_ late.”

 

Clarke thinks back to Lexa’s week-long business trip half a year ago and the three days they spent locked in their bedroom after. “Right,” she says. “Fine. Whatever. We’re sorry. Let’s move on.” She hears Lexa stifle a chuckle and hides her own grin, finding her hand and making her way to the kitchen. Their friends follow.

 

“Damn, Griffin,” Raven mutters. “You’d think you’d be more relaxed after.”

 

Clarke throws Lexa a sly glance. “Talk to me in a week.” Right on cue, the tips of Lexa’s ears turn a lovely pink as she blinks and looks away, not without a small smile.

 

“Okay,” she says, a little louder than usual. “Let’s get to work. You mentioned you were having a crisis.” Anya nods at that, already switching from a grumbling friend to a nervous bride-to-be.

 

“That’s an understatement. My aunt can’t stand Raven’s - well, she can’t stand anyone, if you remember, and…”

 

Clarke catches Lexa’s eyes over the wedding reception layout, and they slowly smile before returning their attention to Anya’s monologue.

 

//

 

“This is nice.”

 

“Isn’t it?” Clarke sighs happily before turning around to face Lexa. “Raven’s going to love it. Anya, too. Hopefully.”

 

Green eyes twinkle when Lexa smirks and entwines her arms around her waist, slowly. “Well, it _is_ her bar,” she says after leaving a small peck on Clarke’s lips.

 

“Exactly,” she says, frowning. “And if she doesn’t like the way I decorated it, she’ll kill me.”

 

“She had plenty of opportunities to kill you. I doubt she’d do it over something as trivial as décor.”

 

“You never know. That could be the last straw.” Clarke manages to hold her giggle in as she says that. Her hands leisurely trail up Lexa’s shoulders, to her hair, fingers tangling in chestnut waves as she leans in. Close enough so their lips almost touch. Almost.

 

She likes to tease her, sometimes – and, luckily, Lexa likes it when she does.

 

“I’ll avenge you,” Lexa promises, with laughter in her voice.

 

“Yeah?” One inch closer, and they’ll be kissing. “I thought you’d protect me first.”

 

“I mean, it’s Anya,” Lexa shrugs. “Not sure what I could do if she sets out to murder you.”

 

They share a smile at that, filled with mutual understanding. She knows Lexa’s perfectly capable of protecting her – even when she doesn’t deserve that. She remembers it. That’s not something she’ll ever forget.

 

But that is something she was able to forgive and be forgiven for. And in the end, that’s all that matters. “You’re selling yourself short,” she tells her. “I, for one, fully believe that you can be my hero.”

 

“Oh?” Now, Lexa’s the one who leans in, and their lips brush, but don’t press together yet.

 

“Yeah.” She tilts her head to the right, slowly studying her face with a smirk. “You’re smart,” their lips brush together again, and Lexa’s breath catches in her throat. “Strong,” her hands stroke down to her shoulders and linger there for a moment before venturing up, to cup Lexa’s face. “ _Big.”_

 

“Clarke,” Lexa throws her head back and quietly laughs. Her smirk grows wider as she waits for her to look at her again, fingers playing with the collar of her grey shirt. “ _That_ doesn’t exactly work since I don’t have a penis.”

 

“Oh?” Clarke raises one teasing eyebrow. “I distinctly remember last night and you being--”

 

“Oh come on,” they are interrupted by Anya’s booming voice, and Lexa sighs. “This is our bachelorette party, not yours,” she gripes.

 

“Yes, and we’re very happy for you, our dear friend,” Clarke says patiently as Lexa and her untangle themselves from one another, slowly and unwillingly. She’s extremely careful not to let any sarcasm into her voice, but some still seeps through. Oh well. She’s Raven’s maid of honor, not Anya’s.

 

“Save it,” comes Anya’s cool reply. She looks around, quickly, and nods to herself, seemingly satisfied. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Now help me with drinks and for the love of God or whatever it is you hold sacred,” she narrows her eyes at them, “don’t fuck at my bachelorette party.”

 

“Oops,” Clarke says. Lexa squeezes her hand, warningly, but she just can’t help herself. Seeing Anya this rattled is a gift she’s not used to receiving, so she’s been secretly milking it for what it’s worth the entire time, starting with the moment their friends announced their engagement. “I mean, it doesn’t count if the party hasn’t started yet, right?”

 

Anya’s nostrils flare as she stares at her, body tense. For one long second, she looks like she might punch a wall, and Clarke almost regrets her words – but then, she blows out a huge sigh and shakes her head, resigned. “Just – help me with drinks,” she says and turns on her heels, heading for the storeroom.

 

“That was bad,” Lexa tells her while she laughs. But there’s a smirk playing on her lips, too, and Clarke thinks she’s okay.

 

//

 

“I’m very close,” Lexa breathes in her ear as her arms tighten around her waist, “to actually breaking Anya’s rule.”

 

She only smirks. Of course, Lexa can’t see that since she’s standing behind her, their bodies pressed together as they dance. It’s mostly Clarke swaying her hips to the bit and Lexa holding onto her, following her movements and quietly growling every time she pushes her ass back into her pelvis. Which happens a lot more than is probably appropriate at your friends’ hen party.

 

Did she mention she likes teasing her?

 

“Right. Because I would be so opposed to that,” she chuckles and leans further into her. One of her hands travels up, finding Lexa’s neck, and she turns her head so she can brush their lips together.

 

Next thing she knows, Lexa’s determinedly tugging her somewhere through the crows, steps quick and purposeful. Well. She didn’t _actually_ expect her to follow through with her half-warning, half-promise, but she’s not about to say _no_ to public sex.

 

To her slight disappointment, they run into the newlyweds-to-be. It’s only when Lexa speaks that she realizes that’s who she was looking for.

 

“Hey guys. Listen, I wanted to--”

 

Anya rolls her eyes as she cuts her off, and Raven just smirks at them. “Go. Just go. I will not be able to run this establishment knowing miss Griffin had her fingers inside you here.” Lexa coughs, but Anya ignores that. “We’ll be fine. We already hired cleaners for tomorrow and Mark will take care of it. You already spent more time here than I thought you would.”

 

“Thanks for the easiest twenty bucks in my life, by the way,” Raven chimes in with a grin. “Pay up, babe,” she tells Anya, who doesn’t even sigh – only smiles as she looks at her fiancé.

 

Clarke wonders if Lexa and her look just as sickeningly sweet. Probably. Then, her eyes widen. “Wait, you bet on us staying longer?” She can’t help but find it a tad insulting. Is it because Raven thinks they don’t want each other as badly as they used to be? Does she think their sex life is dull?

 

Her friend laughs. “Yeah, I knew you’d be too duty-bound to sneak off for a quickie,” she shrugs, instantly making Clarke feel both guilty and stupid for her previous thoughts. “And by _you_ I mean Lexa.”

Clarke scoffs. “I’ll have you know she’s the one who--”

 

“Okay, we’ll see you soon,” Lexa interjects. “Happy hen party,” she says after giving them a quick hug and waiting for Clarke to follow suit.

 

Anya gives her a strange look. “No one says that, but sure.”

 

Outside, they are greeted with crisp night air and early fall chill. Lexa’s smile is teasing, amused, as she lets Clarke cuddle into her side for warmth. “Way to throw me under the bus,” she says as they walk to her conveniently parked car. If it weren’t for Lexa’s decision to quit drinking altogether a year ago, she’d think she planned on them leaving the party early. Clarke definitely did plan on that.

 

“Tell that to Raven,” she huffs, but still smiles at Lexa when she holds the door open for her. Quickly climbing in, she leans over the gearshift, opening the driver’s door from the inside. “I can’t believe she thinks I can’t control myself.”

 

“Can you?” Lexa smirks, starting the car. The low purr of the engine is both soothing and sensual. Figures Lexa’s things have the same effect on her as Lexa herself.

 

“Not when it comes to you,” she says truthfully. “But she thinks I’m worse at it than you. That’s offensive, okay?”

 

She thinks she falls in love with her just a tiny bit more when Lexa nods, serious. “Definitely. I’m equally as bad as you.” Green eyes darken, subtly, when her gaze falls to her lips. “Maybe more than you.”

 

“Lexa.” Their eyes meet. “Take me home.”

 

//

 

She thinks she lost the ability to walk when Lexa finally emerges from between her legs, licking her lips in self-satisfaction and grinning. “Four in a row,” she tells her, smugly. “Not bad.”

 

Good thing all of her muscles are jelly, because she’d totally kick her. With love, of course. “Not bad?” she asks, incredulous, and then clears her throat to try and make her voice less hoarse. It doesn’t work. “You just beat your own record, and all you can say is _not bad?_ ”

 

“We,” Lexa corrects her with a light laugh. “ _We_ beat the record. By the way, congratulations.” She slides up, one toned, muscular thigh between her legs and one arm curled possessively around her waist as she settles next to her.

 

“You already congratulated me,” Clarke tells her, rolling onto her side to face her and wincing when she closes her legs. She’s definitely going to be sore tomorrow. “Thoroughly.”

 

It’s almost funny – how quickly Lexa’s expression changes from smug to concerned. “Are you okay?”

 

She hurries to soothe her. “More than. It’s always worth it.” She smiles, shyly. “I love being reminded of all the things you’ve done to me the next day, you know that.”

Lexa’s face relaxes, slowly. “I know. I love hearing you tell me that.”

 

She gives her a lazy smile. “I know.” Her fingers trace the outline of Lexa’s collarbone as she studies the beautiful woman in front of her. Will she ever get tired of the sight? She desperately hopes not.

 

Lexa’s hand finds its way to her behind and lingers there, slowly caressing and kneading while Clarke leans into her, sighing. “Do you think they are upset with us?” She asks, suddenly. Her hand stills.

 

That makes Clarke blink and pull away, just enough so she can look her in the eye. “Who? Anya and Raven?”

 

Lexa nods, briefly.

 

“Why would they be?” She trails her index finger down the valley between Lexa’s breasts, stopping shy of the beginning of her abs. Truth be told, she doesn’t particularly feel like talking about their friends when – third? fourth? – another round is coming, but Lexa sounds genuinely concerned.

 

She watches her as she shrugs, causing lean muscles under her skin ripple, gracefully. That is not helping. She blinks and forces herself to meet her knowing eyes. “I feel like we – _ditched_ them today.”

 

Clarke chuckles. “Say _ditched_ again.”

 

Lexa sighs and says her name, trying to be stern despite the amused sparkling of green eyes. She chuckles again. “Sorry. I don’t think we ditched them, and I don’t think _they_ think we ditched them. That was kind of expected. They _bet_ on this.”

 

“Right.” Lexa’s body relaxes into her as she starts drawing small circles on her stomach.

 

“They are our best friends,” Clarke tells her quietly. “And because they are, they know we’re helpless. So they plan accordingly. Besides, they know we’ll be there for the important stuff. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have made us their bridesmaids.”

 

“I think Lincoln’s still bitter about that,” Lexa chuckles. “He loves weddings. Keeps trying to add me to some _Pinterest board_ and sending me links about wedding stuff so I can show them to Anya. If he’s not included in the bouquet-catching, he’ll probably riot.”

 

Clarke laughs as she imagines over six-foot-tall Lincoln jumping over everyone to catch the bouquet while his wife is observing with an arched brow. “I don’t know why he’s so riled up about Anya’s choice. He’ll get to fulfill his bridesmaid fantasy when you get married,” she says. Says, and freezes when she realizes just what it is she’s just said. Lexa stills, too, her expression serious as her smile fades.

 

_Everything was going so great. Of course I had to ruin it._

 

“I, uh,” she stutters. “I mean--”

 

“Yes.” Lexa’s voice is quiet, but strong, as she interrupts. Clarke’s sure her eyes have never been this wide.

 

Did she just -- did they--

 

Lexa’s smile is calming as her thumb strokes her cheek, to ground her. “Yes, he will,” she clarifies. “Someday.”

 

Clarke swallows. It’s not that the prospect of marrying Lexa has her terrified. She just wants it to be planned. She wants to properly propose – wants Lexa to walk into their apartment one day and find it full of her favorite candles, and see her kneeling for her with the gorgeous ring in an open box. It should be grand, and beautiful, and perfect. It definitely shouldn’t be an offhand comment after a –admittedly, extremely hot – romp in the sheets.

 

Lexa deserves so much better than that. They both do.

 

“Someday,” she echoes, and it’s a promise that Lexa accepts, with the lightest, purest kiss on her lips.

 

“I won’t ask him right away, though,” she says when they part, and Clarke shakes her head at her impish grin. “I want to see how long he’ll last before caving and asking.”

 

Clarke scoffs. “He won’t last at all,” she says. “He’ll send you an article titled _Why Brothers Make The Best Bridesmaids_ the very next day. No, hour.”

 

Lexa laughs. The sound is clear, and strong, and young, and Clarke can’t take her eyes off of her as she thinks about the ring she saw when she went ring-shopping with Anya, out of all people, a couple of months ago.

 

It’s a good thing she ended up buying it.


End file.
